


caveat emptor

by daienkaixoxentei



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, He's doing his best ok, Light-Hearted, M/M, Mutual Pining, Owl Onesies as a plot device, Pining, akaashi is completely oblivious you guys, give akaashi a support group 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25778392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daienkaixoxentei/pseuds/daienkaixoxentei
Summary: translation: let the buyer beware.Or:Akaashi makes a purchase online. Upon its arrival, he realizes he’s made something of a mistake. After all, nobody buys an owl onesie and expects to have their best friend delivered to their doorstep.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 15
Kudos: 139





	caveat emptor

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this some time ago and got the urge to finish it, finally. I'm glad I did, because I had loads of fun writing it! There's a fun amount of Kuroken in this, although BokuAka is definitely the main pairing. I just can't stay away from my OTP i guess sjdfnskdfnsfksjndfsd. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it! Thank you for giving this dumb fic a chance

Akaashi doesn’t pretend to be anything of an expert in the perils of online shopping. Nor does he consider himself adequately versed on the matter. Actually, he’s never shopped online in his life before and probably wouldn’t have been spending his Saturday night boring holes with his eyes into his laptop screen unhappily—if it weren’t for Bokuto.

Naïve, enthusiastic Bokuto. They’d been walking home from school when he got ‘scouted on the street’, or so Bokuto likes to put it in his wild recollection of the tale. In Bokuto’s version, a glamorous designer had strolled up to the pair of them and taken her designer glasses off her face in wonder to gaze at Bokuto’s exquisite physical form before assertively giving him the job offer.

In reality, it had been some strange first year from a nearby fashion college that had approached them cautiously. She’d been wearing simple, wide-framed glasses and they’d actually slipped off her face as she tried to adjust them on the bridge of her nose. Rather unlike the majestic fabrication Bokuto prefers, she’d just timidly asked if he’d be interested in doing her a favor, before shyly describing the details.

Akaashi would have advised him against accepting the offer—had he got the chance to. Sure, the girl seemed nice enough but really, who could be sure she wasn’t going to hit him over the head and run off with all his money? Neither of them had even known who she was. But Bokuto had taken the words ‘I would be really flattered if someone as handsome-looking as you were to model for _my_ clothes’ to his head—like, _straight_ to his head. He’d leaped into the agreement with this big, sincerely elated grin that made his face light all the way up and Akaashi hadn’t had the heart to reprimand him for it afterwards.

“Hear that, Akaashi?” He’d said proudly after the girl had left, jabbing his chest happily with his thumb. “I’m going to be a model!”

Well, what was he supposed to say to that? You’re an idiot for agreeing to that, you’re probably not even getting paid for it anyway? It would have broken his heart. Nope, nope, nope. There was simply no need in causing such unnecessary distress to Bokuto. Akaashi would be the one who’d have to pick him back up again, anyhow.

“That’s amazing, Bokuto-san.” He’d said instead, hoping he didn’t sound too sarcastic. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait!” Bokuto had preened at Akaashi’s non-subtle encouragement, as usual completely oblivious to the brown-nosing. “But Akaashi, you’ll be my first fan, won’t you?”

“Bokuto-san, you already have fans.”

“But—not for modeling!” He’d insisted vigorously, using his arms to emphasize how important this is to him. Privately, Akaashi was impressed. Emphatic arm movements are reserved only for things Bokuto finds Very, Very Important. Perhaps this ‘job offer’ meant more to him than meets the eye?

“You’ll be my first fan for my modeling career, won’t you, Akaashi?”

Akaashi had only sighed. One never wins the war against Bokuto, on or off the court. There simply was no point in trying. “Alright, Bokuto-san. I’ll be your first fan.”

And Bokuto’s eyes had lit up, his face coming alive with that big, genuine smile that makes him look _stupid_ pretty again. “So,” he’d said eagerly. “So that means you’ll buy my product, right?”

“That means I’ll _what_?” Akaashi had heard him, but he was just making sure.

“Akaaashiiii, _please_ ,” Bokuto had brought those wide golden eyes front and center, his lips coming together in an extraordinarily endearing pout. “ _Please_ you have to buy my product! Here, I’ll even give you the money for it”—

“That… won’t be necessary, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi had to grab his wrist to prevent him from reaching for his wallet. “I’ll be happy to buy it on my own.”

And thus, Akaashi has been forced into his current predicament.

Bokuto has sent him the link for the merchandise via email, but honestly, he's almost afraid to click it. Akaashi doesn't fear much but he sure is afraid of the unknown. Some insane portion of his mind can't be sure that opening that webpage _wouldn't_ trap him in a strange abyss where the only thought that's going to be rattling around in his brain is a shirtless Bokuto in provocative underwear. Which is not to say that it is a sight he would be opposed to seeing--

 _Whoa_. He thinks. _Calm down, mister. This is Bokuto-san. The captain of your volleyball team. On which you are the setter. The setter designated to babysit him at all times._

Somehow nothing in there sounds like enough of an excuse for him to be daydreaming about Bokuto in various compromising positions.

He sighs, and clicks the link before he could convince himself otherwise.

...

 _Oh_. He thinks, throat clicking together.

Bokuto is posed against a nondescript window under the afternoon sun, and the orange glow makes his eyes look like liquid gold. And that expression… well, Akaashi certainly didn't expect Bokuto-san to be able to pull bedroom eyes on command like that. His eyes are simmering like a low fire above a wide, reckless smirk, and somehow the expression makes Akaashi's stomach clench in a way that sends alarm bells ringing in his head.

A part of him wonders whether the college student really didn’t pay him anything for such amazing work. He makes a mental note to ask him later. He clicks through the photos, simultaneously stunned and apprehensive as he gawks at Bokuto for several minutes until finally he notices the actual merchandise being advertised.

In the image he’s viewing right now, the zipper is casually undone up to halfway down his chest, exposing some of the muscles that Bokuto works so hard to maintain. The hood is rather large, ornamented with the likeness of a large-eyed horned owl in gaudy colors of grey and gold. Akaashi frowns at the fact that he took _this_ long to notice it. Bokuto’s arms are raised in a chic sort of way, a hand nonchalantly buried in his hair, and his stance exposes the feather-shaped flaps of fabric underneath the sleeves that he supposes are meant to be wings.

An owl onesie.

He gets a strange yet familiar sensation as he looks at the images. It’s the same feeling he gets when Bokuto and his eyes meet across the court and the former offers him a wide, exhilarated grin after a successful setup. The same feeling he gets when Bokuto runs up to him for that customary post-match embrace he tries to avoid but not really. The same feeling he gets when he manages to pull Bokuto out of one of his routine funks, and his golden eyes go from muted to feverishly threatening in a matter of seconds.

 _You know what that feeling is_. A snarky voice in his head supplies. _You have a crush._

Does he? Honestly, somewhere deep down inside him, there’s something that’s inclined to agree that the hot, sweaty, uncomfortable feeling that grows within him when Bokuto is around is romantic in nature. But the other side—the sensible side—reminds him that as teammates he has no right to harbor such emotions, and anyway the very idea of putting _Bokuto_ and _the soft, tender brushes of a forbidden first love_ in the same bracket is way too much for him to handle right now.

(Or maybe Akaashi is simply in denial, and for someone like him, matters of the heart require time. More time than the ten minutes he has to buy this thing before returning the credit card to his father.)

Anyway, he’s actually kind of proud of the fact that Bokuto is able to not only confidently take pictures wearing something so ridiculous, but actually look bomb as hell doing it. At the same time, he’s mortified by the thought that he is now going to have to purchase this monstrosity, and later have to explain what it is and why he’s buying it to his predictably confused parents.

Not that he has any idea what he’s going to do with it, because he’s certainly not going to be wearing it in public. Maybe if the design wasn’t so flashy, he would feel comfortable wearing it to bed? But whatever, so long as it appeases Bokuto, he guesses it’s fine.

Without any idea what he’s getting himself into, he picks out his size and clicks to confirm the purchase.

*

“So,” Bokuto says conversationally while they’re doing partner stretching after practice the next day. “Did you buy it?”

The image of sultry-eyed Bokuto barrels its way back into his brain, which is not exactly ideal considering their compromising position and suddenly he is far too aware of Bokuto’s hands pressing into his lower back in an attempt to stretch him out.

“Yes.” He huffs out, wincing when Bokuto fist pumps the air in excitement and inadvertently ends up pushing him a bit harder than necessary. “Careful please, Bokuto-san.”

“Oops, sorry!” He eases up, but then scoots his face _much_ closer than necessary, so much so that Akaashi can feel his warm breath against his ear. “I’m so glad you’re my first fan, Akaashi! I could hug you right now.”

_Oh god._

“Please don’t.” Akaashi says quickly, and then wonders whether it’s going to be worth explaining to Bokuto that buying the onesie doesn’t automatically make someone a fan of him. Absolutely not, he deduces almost instantaneously. He says that and he’ll end up getting roped into some other embarrassing activity to prove his loyalty.

Bokuto pouts near his ear as he switches legs. “Huh, fine.” He sulks.

Akaashi narrows his eyes. That’s certainly not the first time he’s refused physical intimacy from Bokuto, so what’s the deal with the petulant reaction? Strange. Perhaps this modelling business really _does_ mean more to him than meets the eye.

“You were really good, Bokuto-san.” He ends up saying. “I saw the pictures.”

That perks him back up.

“You think so?” He exclaims, and the offending knee from before returns to antagonize his spine. He yelps, actually in fear for his life this time, as Bokuto thrusts his arms in the air and hoots loudly. “Hey, hey, hey!”

“Bokuto-san, please!”

“Oh, sorry. Sorry. Thanks for that, by the way.” He quiets down a bit, but the grin remains on his face. “Switch?”

Akaashi gets to his feet quickly, brushing some dust off of his shorts. His face is expressionless, but there’s a smile hiding somewhere within his heart as Bokuto beams up at him in sincere gratitude. He might have actually released it had he not nearly been killed moments ago.

“Switch.” He agrees, grateful to have survived that ordeal.

*

The website had said that the parcel should arrive within a day or so, but the weekend arrives, ends, and Monday rolls around and there’s still no sign of the cursed onesie. Akaashi gets kind of worried, especially since he realizes that Bokuto must be waiting for some kind of comment from him about the purchase.

“Anyway, I guess I’ll send them another email tonight.” He finishes explaining the situation as they walk back home after practice that day.

“Oh.” Bokuto says in an uncharacteristic voice, and Akaashi is _immediately_ suspicious. His apprehension only intensifies when Bokuto goes on to say with this really freaky grin that Akaashi faintly understands is Bokuto’s miserable attempt to hide a sly smile with nonchalance. “About that. Don’t worry about it, I’m handling it.”

Which means, of course, that Akaashi begins to _really_ worry about it.

The following couple of days has him plagued with anxiety as he mulls over and fails to be able to deduce what the hell kind of a scheme Bokuto must be pulling. At one point, he even wonders whether the time has finally come for him to pen out his will just in case he doesn’t survive whatever atrocity that his airheaded captain has so meticulously planned out for him.

In fact, he gets so anxious over it that he actually makes the mistake of carefully asking Bokuto about it at lunch one day, after trying and failing to eat his riceballs because his throat keeps closing up every time he thinks about the impending doom.

“He-ey,” Bokuto emanates cheerfully, his expression brightening akin to the midday summer sun blazing over the school courtyard. “You’re actually really curious about it, aren’t you! That makes me _so_ happy.”

The anxiety in his head upgrades itself to big flashing siren, blaring red warning signals against his skull. Uh-oh. He’s really done it now. It seems Bokuto is _really_ looking forward to whatever the hell he has planned out. Bokuto is really fond of surprises and pranks, a dangerous combination in the hands of a capable person with enough tenacity, and Bokuto is the most capable, tenacious person Akaashi knows.

Uh-oh, indeed.

He realizes that it’s time to bring in the big guns. The only other person in the world who can claim to understand even a facet of the terrifying psyche that is Bokuto Koutaro’s mind.

*

They agree to meet at a café called The Tabby, a cute little place with delicious coffee that’s situated only a few blocks from Nekoma High. Akaashi hasn’t been in there for too long with his affogato when Kuroo enters the establishment, Kenma in tow.

After they’ve taken a seat and gotten their orders, Kuroo takes a sip from his iced caramel frappucino. “Well?” He offers this crazy grin. “What kind of secret could our little Akaashi have to discuss with me behind his beloved captain’s back?”

Kenma glances away from his game to roll his eyes.

“Don’t call him that.” He mumbles, at the same time Akaashi says. “I’m only a year younger than you, Kuroo-san. But thank you for showing up, it really is important.”

“Oho?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“Has Bokuto-san mentioned to you at all that he did a modeling gig recently?” Akaashi blurts out very quickly. “It’s related to that.”

“I am indeed familiar with the saga of that awful onesie.” Kuroo affirms, crossing his arms over chest. His smirk widens. “He did do very well with his limited options, though, didn’t he?”

Well, Akaashi can’t disagree with that, but he sure does wish everyone would stop bringing it up. He shuts his eyes, willing to sell his soul to the devil if it means he could erase bedroom-eyes Bokuto from his mind.

“I ordered one.” He continues evenly. “One of the onesies.”

Kuroo guffaws very loudly. This is first time noticing that Kuroo has never been the most dignified laugher, usually because when Akaashi is with him Bokuto is nearby too, and any such eccentricity always pales in comparison to Bokuto’s behavior. Or maybe he just doesn’t have enough space in his brain after compartmentalizing every tidbit of his captain’s behavior to even pay attention to anyone else.

Kenma wrinkles his nose as Kuroo asks. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Akaashi frowns. He’d been under the impression that Bokuto would’ve asked all his friends to support his career, instead of inflicting the predicament upon just him. “Well.” He manages to get out. “Bokuto-san is under the impression that buying it makes me his fan.”

“Oh?” Kuroo’s eyebrows slide high up his forehead. A grin like the Cheshire cat’s spread across his face, from end to end. “And you just couldn’t resist pleasing him?”

Akaashi is beginning to realize that this might have been something of a mistake.

“N-No.” He manages to stammer out. “Keeping him happy is less of an ordeal than pulling him out of a funk, that’s all. I acted in the team’s best interest.”

Geez, even he himself can’t believe that.

“The team’s best interest.” Kuroo repeats slowly. He takes a large sip of his drink. “See, Akaashi, I don’t believe you. I think you bought that thing for an entirely different reason.”

Akaashi narrows his eyes. Why is Kuroo so insistent about analyzing Akaashi’s feelings instead of hearing out what he has to say? It’s almost like he’s not even giving him a chance to express his plight. Almost like… almost like he is trying to sabotage the friendship he has with Bokuto. But wait—of course. If the relationship between Akaashi and his captain is rocky, then the structural integrity of Fukurodani will crumble. Just in time for the regional tournament next month, too…

He’s furiously trying to come up with an idea to get out of this conversation when Kuroo suddenly says:

“Say, how long have you been in love with him?”

It was like someone hit him with a splash of cold water. His lungs stop functioning.

“What.” He intones, just to be clear he heard him right.

“How long have you been in love with him?” Kuroo repeats, looking completely serious.

Where is all this coming from? He’s certain he hasn’t been forward about… about—fine, whatever, he might as well admit it to himself—about his feelings for Bokuto, has even done well to suppress it all this time. He’d been so sure that nobody would know. He hardly believes it himself, anyway.

So if Kuroo is so intuitive about his feelings toward Bokuto, combined with all the pushing and the prodding and the teasing then… that must mean—

His eyes widen as he looks at Kuroo. “Kuroo-san, don’t tell me you have feelings for Bokuto-san, too?”

Kuroo gapes at him. To Akaashi’s utter shock, it is Kenma that blushes right to the tips of his poorly-dyed roots, and not Kuroo. Kuroo looks at him like Akaashi had told him to strip naked and do the can-can, and then his face relaxes and he emanates yet another one of those loud, hyena-like laughs.

“Oh, _man_.” He chokes out between laughs. “I had no idea you were _that_ oblivious, Akaashi. What the hell.”

Akaashi frowns slightly. What? Oblivious to what?

Kenma sighs.

“Akaashi.” He explains quietly. “We’re dating.”

Something that sounds like an oven timer ticks for ten whole seconds, and then goes off with a _bing_ inside his head. All of a sudden, a lot of secret looks and hand-tugging and conversations he’s had with the pair of them makes a hell lot more sense. And it’s very quickly becoming clear to him that he is not anywhere near as observational as he thinks he is. Either that, or he becomes _really_ stupid when his feelings for Bokuto are involved.

He swallows.

“I’m sorry.” He says, calmly now. “That makes a lot more sense.”

Akaashi quickly finishes his drink. You know what, he thinks. It’s probably safer to get out of here now while Kenma still has some semblance of respect toward him. If he starts to grill Kuroo about some secret plot Bokuto has up his sleeve, then they’re both really going to start thinking he was a complete maniac.

He stands up from the table. “Thank you very much for the time, both of you. I’m afraid I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten, my mother will be wondering where I am.”

Kenma shrugs and returns back to his game. Kuroo has a very annoying, very knowing look on his face that makes Akaashi want to scream into a pillow, but he just gives a cordial bow in return to Kuroo’s goodbye and quickly exits the café.

*

In the end the whole incident doesn’t help him figure out the situation _at all_ , but it turns out he doesn’t have to wait that long to find out. Because very soon—the very next day, in fact—the apocalypse arrives on his doorstep.

Akaashi answers the ringing doorbell with a certain amount of apprehension, and in the split-second before the door opens he wonders whether he should have looked through the eyehole first. In hindsight, it might have prepared him better for the disaster to come.

When he opens the door, it’s like the wind punches him in the face.

Bokuto stands there on the doorstep, dressed in his incriminating owl onesie, hood on and zipper just low enough for his very nice collarbones to peek out at him from underneath the wool. He’s holding a parcel underneath one wing—er, arm, and a rose in his other hand. 

Ah, his brain clears up a knot he hasn’t realized had been there. So this is what his big plot was. To come deliver the onesie himself. Honestly, Akaashi had been thinking somewhere along the lines of ‘commits a crime that gets the both of them sentenced to ten years in prison’, so this is actually almost mild. It’s definitely something of a relief to know he isn’t going to die just yet.

Bokuto grabs onto the wool and pulls at it with a frown, perhaps because it was starting to get oppressively warm for him. Akaashi’s sharp eye does not miss the bead of sweat that rolls sensually down his neck.

He gulps. Maybe death was not too far, after all.

Akaashi realizes he should probably stop gaping at him and let him inside, because his elderly neighbor is staring at them from across the street, probably wondering who would be crazy enough to wear wool outside in the middle of summer.

Bedroom eyes Bokuto. Akaashi thinks weakly. Here to torture him in corporeal form. He drops his eyes to the rose in Bokuto’s hand.

Very seriously, he asks. “Is this part of the delivery?”

Bokuto laughs, and it’s a sound that Akaashi has always liked but it looks exponentially better illuminated in the golden rays of the afternoon sun. His heart gives a lurch.

“Yeah,” he says, holding it out. The section of his brain that’s hardwired to observe Bokuto realizes that his voice is somewhat cautious, but maybe due to sensory overload he doesn’t process it immediately. “It’s for you.”

Akaashi plucks it from his hand, wondering how accepting an online delivery could end up seeming so intimate.

“Uh,” he stammers, actually at a loss for words. “Why don’t you come in, Bokuto-san? The neighbors are staring.”

Bokuto grins at that, probably pleased. Of course he would be. But he steps inside the genkan and is in the process of removing his shoes when Akaashi’s mother pokes her head into the doorway, undoubtedly wondering what the fuss was.

“Keiji?” She addresses him, but her wide eyes are fixed on Bokuto. “What’s going on?”

Akaashi opens his mouth to explain, but Bokuto beats him to it. “Good afternoon, Akaashi-san! I was just dropping by to give Akaashi a package he ordered.” He showcases the parcel proudly.

His mother flickers her eyes to him in bewilderment. “This is what you borrowed the credit card for the other day? I didn’t know you liked cutesy things?”

_She thinks that thing is cute?_

“I modeled the product!” Bokuto exclaims proudly, showcasing the hideous onesie like a trophy. “ _Akaaashi_ was supporting me by buying it. So now we have matching ones. Anyway, I’m just here to make sure the product is satisfactory.”

His mother raises her eyebrows. She glances at the rose in Akaashi’s hands, then at the parcel, and Akaashi realizes how the whole thing must look to her.

“Apparently it comes with the product.” He deadpans in reference to the rose, but then he realizes the same sentence would also apply to Bokuto, and then he contemplates the idea of fleeing the city or the country or even the entire dimension—forever. It’s a good fantasy, even if it doesn’t last him very long.

“Well,” she says in a knowing voice. “You boys have fun. I’m still working so try not to make too much noise, okay?”

His mother writes for the local newspaper, and usually works from home since it’s more convenient and anyway the Akaashi household is quieter and more suitable as a workplace than any office most of the time.

Bokuto sneezes very loudly just then. Maybe one of the low-quality wool strands got into his nose. Akaashi sighs.

Most of the time.

*

Akaashi unwraps the thing, treating it as gingerly as he would a bomb. And—yep, there it is, the same gaudy, outrageous specimen that Bokuto is currently wearing, but in his size. He’s glaring at it like it killed his parents when all of a sudden Bokuto zips his own onesie down to his navel and like a fish caught on a hook, Akaashi’s eyes go _straight_ to the exposed skin. A flush that has nothing to do with the warm weather travels up to his cheeks.

“Um, do you mind?” Bokuto says sheepishly before Akaashi could complain. “It’s so much warmer than I thought.”

“I could offer you a change of clothes.” Akaashi says hopefully. He’s pretty sure he’s got a couple of shirts around here somewhere that would definitely be big enough to fit Bokuto. But no such luck, Bokuto makes his way onto the bed and throws himself onto it like he usually does, but this time he’s in that goddamn bedroom-eyes-suit with most of his torso exposed and Akaashi is now forced to deal with the fact that Bokuto’s muscles look really, really nice, and oh my god he has already seen this obviously since they are teammates and for god’s sake he is not supposed to feel this way.

“I was wondering if you could try it on.” Bokuto asks, his golden eyes sincere and hopeful.

Akaashi blinks at him.

Nearly shirtless Bokuto asks him to strip down and get into a matching onesie with him. Okay. Wait. No. No, wait. His brain is short-circuiting.

“In this weather?” He ends up saying.

Bokuto frowns. “I thought if I wore it too you’d be more likely to try it out. And I wanted to do this with you, anyway.”

Uh-oh.

“I’d prefer not to.” He says carefully.

Of course he’s opposed to wearing the damn thing, but that’s not even the issue here. The whole idea of doing something so intimate as wearing matching outfits is a privilege reserved to couples—and stripping down to his boxers while Bokuto is also half-naked and lying provocatively in his bed while Akaashi has undeniable feelings toward him? Forget it. This is not happening.

Bokuto pouts. “If I say please?”

Akaashi’s heart rends but also something that tastes dangerously like hurt bubbles up in his chest. He knows he hasn’t been very forward about his feelings toward Bokuto, but—why is love so hard? It should be very easy for him as a teammate to do something as silly as this, but it seems that the sentimental section in his brain has momentarily taken over the sane section, and it’s telling him very loudly and clearly that it isn’t _fair_ for Bokuto to do something like this to him. Right? It isn’t fair, when Bokuto clearly doesn’t have any reciprocal feelings towards him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Akaashi registers that Bokuto’s expression has changed into one of confusion. Somehow, his captain has realized that it’s not just mortal embarrassment that’s preventing him from putting the damned suit on. Whether he’s figured out the rest of it, Akaashi can’t tell, but it looks like it’s going to become more and more obvious the longer this goes on.

He exhales deeply. “Some other time.” He says in a soft voice. In the meantime, he should learn to get his stupid feelings under control.

Bokuto crosses his arms over his chest. “Hey, Akaashi.” He says quite seriously, golden eyes strangely inquisitive. “You know you can talk to me about things that bother you, right? It’s always you who’s taking care of me, but I want to be able to take care of you too, sometimes.”

God damn it. How is he supposed to forget the way he feels about Bokuto when he comes out and says things like _that_ with such sincerity? Akaashi takes a deep breath that feels like a thousand needles stabbing into his lungs.

“Uh, Bokuto-san.” He finds himself saying. “I don’t feel so well right now. Is it okay if I see you tomorrow?”

Bokuto’s eyes go wide. “What?”

Akaashi isn’t going to be able to hold this in for much longer. His voice shakes a little when he says, “Please?”

“Ah,” Bokuto gets to his feet, and teeters back and forward, looking conflicted. “Ah, okay.” He says at length, looking extraordinarily down and in a quieter voice than Akaashi’s ever heard him use, although Akaashi can’t really manage to understand why he should be _so_ despondent about it? Akaashi’s done this before, for sure, right, when his social battery runs out and he just needs some space to himself? Ugh, the whole thing is frying his brain out, but at the same time he can’t help but be worried about Bokuto, because usually Akaashi can _immediately_ deduce the cause of Bokuto’s funks and the fact that he is unable to do so right now means that something is very, very wrong with him.

As Bokuto leaves the room, Akaashi sinks onto his bed with a shuddering breath. He wonders if requited love is as wonderful as unrequited love is awful. His fingers find purchase on something long and thin, the rose Bokuto had brought him earlier. He frowns at it. It’s a sure weird thing to get as a freebie after ordering an owl onesie…

“It’s for you.” Bokuto had said, and Akaashi gets this sense of desperation, the same desperation he gets when he’s looking at a question on a test that he’s supposed to know the answer to.

*

Later that night, he gets a surprising text.

 _Akaashi_. It reads. _Do you mind if I come see you?_

It wouldn’t have been an extraordinary text had it not been for the person who sent it.

 _Kenma?_ Akaashi hesitates. Does he really have the capacity to deal with another person right now? But then again this is Kenma, and Kenma _never_ asks to hang out. It must be something important.

 _Yeah,_ he finds himself typing. _I’m free._

_Cool, I’ll see you in a bit._

True to his word, Kenma has arrived in half an hour or so. It’s his first time in the Akaashi household, and to be honest he looks a bit nervous but there’s also this steely determination in his eyes that Akaashi only sees when he’s playing a match against Karasuno. The two of them climb the staircase to Akaashi’s room in silence. It’s quiet between them inside Akaashi’s room, too, save for the awkward “Make yourself at home” that Akaashi offers him and the nod Kenma gives in return as he sits on the chair by the study desk.

Kenma has his lips pursed tightly, like he’s thinking about what to say. Akaashi doesn’t push him, but rather waits till he’s ready.

“Kuro is at Bokuto’s.” He says eventually, in a somewhat accusatory tone.

Akaashi doesn’t really know what to say to that. “Oh?”

“Yes.” Kenma frowns slightly. “Because Bokuto is upset.”

A cold chill spreads into Akaashi’s heart. If he’s that upset, Akaashi is usually the first person Bokuto would call. He can’t understand what he might have done to affront him so much that he turns to Kuroo for support instead of him. Does the onesie _really_ mean that much to him? More than volleyball? That doesn’t even make any sense.

“Did he say why?” Akaashi asks evenly.

Kenma narrows his eyes at him slightly. “You don’t know?”

What on earth, Akaashi thinks. Is he really the only one who is completely oblivious to what’s going on?

“Uh, you do have feelings for Bokuto, right?”

Akaashi blinks. There’s no point hiding it anyway, and it’s Kenma. He can keep a secret. “Yes. But please don’t tell him.”

Kenma frowns at him for a second longer, and then his expression clears. “Oh.” He mumbles, averting his eyes. “I see. It makes sense now.”

What makes sense now? Akaashi taps his foot against the floor impatiently.

“I don’t know how to say this, Akaashi.” Kenma fidgets with his phone. “Uh, but Bokuto is kind of under the impression that you rejected him today.”

Akaashi narrows his eyes at him. What he’s saying doesn’t even make sense.

“What?”

Rejection? But for that to happen then… and here it dawns on him very slowly… for that to happen, Bokuto must have feelings for him in the first place.

 _Oh._ Akaashi thinks, feeling an anvil drop in his stomach. _Oh my god._

Kenma must have noticed the sudden change in his expression. He huffs in exasperation.

“I thought you were observant.” He complains.

“Clearly not.” Akaashi finds himself mumbling as he tries to process this newfound information. If Bokuto likes him, then… oh my god, the ordering of the onesie, the strange behavior, the provocative bedroom eyes, the flirting, the nervousness earlier today… all the pieces of the puzzle that’s been whirring around in his brain click into place, and he chokes on his breath.

“Kenma,” he asks, because he has to know. “You’re sure about this, right?”

Kenma scowls at his feet. “I don’t know how it hasn’t been clear to you, actually. He’s always looking at you when he thinks you’re not looking at him, kind of like Kuroo used to do to me back when he didn’t have the courage to confess his feelings to me, and he’s always going out of his way to get your attention, also similar to what Kuroo used to do back when we weren’t dating and even now, actually. And he’s also always…” but he trails off when he realizes Akaashi is staring at him.

“What.” He mutters with dignity. “I’m an observer of the human condition.”

Akaashi tries very hard not to call him crazy. Instead, he pulls onto his lap the long, thin item sitting on his bed again—the red rose from earlier.

 _“It’s for you.”_ He had said sincerely, and Akaashi marvels again at how he hadn’t figured this out earlier.

“Kenma.” He asks very seriously. “Can we go over to Bokuto’s place right now?”

Kenma sighs and gets to his feet. “I was waiting for you to say that. Honestly… Kuro’s supposed to come with me to buy a new game tonight.”

Akaashi allows himself a small smile. He had been wondering what got Kenma so fired up, anyway.

*

It seems Kenma has texted a summary of their conversation to Kuroo on their way to Bokuto’s house, because the dark-haired boy is waiting for them on the front porch when they arrive. Quite boldly, or perhaps simply because he could care less, Kenma reaches up to exchange a kiss with Kuroo right in front of him as soon as they walk up to the door.

“Very classy.” Akaashi complains.

Kuroo rolls his eyes. “Go fix him up, will you? He’s almost inconsolable at this point.”

Akaashi doesn’t need to be told twice. And anyway, once he figures out the _cause_ of Bokuto’s funk, it’s not so bad to pick him back up again. Truth be told, he does it himself most of the time, because Bokuto is actually a much stronger person than people give him credit for. At least he’s aware of his emotions and able to express them, unlike a certain someone Akaashi can think of. Emotionally speaking, at least, Bokuto is certainly far more put together than Akaashi is.

Akaashi knocks twice, then lets himself into the room to find Bokuto cross-legged on his bed, huddled underneath his quilt. He pokes his head out from the covers as Akaashi enters, and his golden eyes fly open in surprise.

“Akaashi?” He asks.

“Listen.” Akaashi starts as he sits on the edge of the bed, thinking he’ll get straight to the point. He drops the bag in his hands onto the floor. “I’m really sorry for the way I behaved today, Bokuto-san. I realize now what it must have felt like for you.”

“No!” Bokuto says immediately, jumping out of his covers and grabbing Akaashi by the shoulders. “No, _I’m_ sorry! I’m really stupid about things like this, okay? And I was trying to flirt with you in a new way because nothing else I did was getting through to you, and I thought this was a really good way to finally confess to you or something, but”—he stops to take a big, heaving breath— “seriously, I didn’t think it through at all. Please just forget it ever happened, okay? Because I still want to be friends with you. You’re my bestest friend, Akaashi, and I don’t want to lose you no matter what.”

Akaashi’s heart does a somersault. Bokuto’s hands slide off his shoulders, but Akaashi grabs onto one of them with a meaningful squeeze. He takes a deep breath.

“I don’t want to lose you either, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto’s eyes widen.

“But you’ve got it all wrong.” Akaashi says softly. “You were really brave and kind to me today, but I was too stupid to see what you were trying to tell me. I guess I was so in denial about how I feel towards you that it made me really, really blind.”

“How you feel towards me?” Bokuto mumbles, and then his face lights up. “But then, that means”—

“Yeah.” Akaashi says before he can change his mind. “I like you, Bokuto-san.”

“You like me?” A smile is beginning to form on Bokuto’s face now.

“Yes.” He meets Bokuto’s gaze head on. “I like you to the point of stupidity.”

“Well, it’s like they say.” When Akaashi looks at him questioningly, he says. “Liking someone is like being hit with a stupid stick.”

“A stupid stick?” Akaashi blinks.

“Yeah, like a stick that makes you stupid.” Bokuto gestures vigorously. “Like, a stick that makes you seriously, totally dumb”—

“I get it, Bokuto-san.” He’s truthfully never heard the phrase before in his life, but it sums up his feelings towards Bokuto very astutely. In fact…

“I agree with you.” He stands up from the bed, picking up the bag on the floor. “I like you so much it’s like I’ve been hit with a stupid stick.”

Bokuto grins widely at him. “Me too, Akaashi. I like you, too. Enough to feel like I’ve been hit with a stupid stick.” He raises an eyebrow at the bag. “But what’s that?”

Akaashi stares at the far wall, steeling himself. “Just give me a moment, Bokuto-san.” He says, and disappears into the bathroom along with the bag.

*

When he comes out, Bokuto’s eyes open _really_ wide. An expression of pure delight paints itself onto his face, his lips breaking open in a huge smile that stretches across his face and makes Akaashi feel like he’s been struck by lightning. He looks at that expression and thinks, yes, this was so worth it.

Bokuto barrels off of the bed and tackles him in a tight hug, and Akaashi melts into his arms because it just feels so good and so right and so warm in his embrace. He thinks he could stay there forever. Bokuto’s hands come up to cup his face, so that they’re looking at one another.

“Akaashi.” He says, very seriously. “You are the cutest person alive. I promise you. This is the best present anyone has ever given me.”

“Hoot, hoot.” Akaashi deadpans, flapping his wings— _arms,_ Jesus—sarcastically. It’s embarrassing enough to be wearing this thing in front of Bokuto, but he sure is glad no one else is around to see him right now. He doesn’t think he could ever live down the embarrassment.

As if on cue, a soft knock comes on the door and a mop of bleached hair appears into their vision as someone lets themselves in.

“Uh, Kuroo said he left his phone”— Kenma stops dead in his tracks.

Akaashi stares at him. Kenma stares back. At the owl hood. At the cartoon-y wings. Akaashi has never seen such utter mortification and disappointment on his face. In fact, he looks like he’s dying a little on the inside and he promptly removes himself from the situation without another word, slamming the door as he went.

Akaashi is super embarrassed, and it doesn’t look like Kenma’s going to speak to either of them for the next ten years but—whatever. Whatever. Who cares about that right now when Bokuto is grinning at him like that, with the promise of something warm and unknown and thrilling echoing in his eyes? Bokuto gives him a once-over.

“Y’know,” he whispers conspiratorially. “I’d really like to take that off you right now.”

Akaashi flushes faintly, but he has enough sense left in him to resist tackling Bokuto onto the bed right that instant.

“At least buy me dinner first, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto turns red at this quip as well, but he’s still grinning like a moron when he says. “That’s alright. For now, I’ll settle for this.”

And then he’s leaning down to press his lips against Akaashi’s own in a long, lingering kiss. Akaashi kisses back with fervor, drinking him in in all his glory. He realizes he could do this forever, every day, for the rest of his life. His hands come up to bury themselves in Bokuto’s hair as they pull away slowly, smiling at each other.

“We should probably go give Kuroo his phone back.” Akaashi reasons. “Kenma needs to buy a game tonight.”

Bokuto chuckles loudly. “He’s never going to speak to us again, is he?”

“Never.” Akaashi frowns down at the offending onesie, though somehow after the interaction they just had it looks somewhat appealing. “Let me just go take this off.”

“You sure I can’t help you out?”

“Dinner first, Bokuto-san.”

*

“Great job, you two.” Kuroo sounds exasperated, but he can’t keep the laughter out of his face. “Kenma’s mad at me too because of you.”

Kenma stands a few ways away, furiously mashing the buttons on his game and wearing an expression that indicated he would kill anyone who steps within a few feet of him. He doesn’t look up from the device at all for the entire time they’re there, actually, and seems completely content with pretending they weren’t there at all.

“That’s what I get for trying to be more social…” he mutters, mostly to himself, but Akaashi’s sharp ears catch it.

“Yeah, he thinks you guys are involved in some freaky furry roleplay.” Kuroo sniggers cruelly, uncaring of how Akaashi turns crimson in embarrassment.

“No, no, hear me out…” Loyally, Bokuto begins to explain the whole story in detail to Kuroo.

Akaashi slips a hand inside Bokuto’s, giving his fingers a squeeze.

What a way to get together with someone, he thinks. After all, nobody makes a purchase online and expects to have the love of their life delivered to their doorstep.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> protectkenmasquad2020!! i cant believe the poor boy had to see that with his own two eyes \: anyway, i'll reread and fix the mistakes sometime soon! As for now, please leave a kudos and give me a comment, any comment, if you enjoyed reading this! Thank you so much for reading this all the way through your validation is 99% of what plants use to photosynthesize!!! love you guys and drop by my [tumblr](https://xdaienkai.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat or even give me requests!


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